


just once (or a billion times)

by mingowow



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Deja Vu, M/M, Many alternate universes, or multiple lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-02 23:37:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14556051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mingowow/pseuds/mingowow
Summary: It's just a familiar, unknown thing.Soonyoung always remembers Mingyu, even if he doesn't realize it.





	just once (or a billion times)

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta'd; sorry in advance for any mistakes!

**I.**

 

Déjà vu is a very real thing. Soonyoung will argue anyone's ear off about it because he knows it for a fact. It's not an opinion or speculation, it's the honest to God truth.

For a while, he thought he was having premonitions. Moments would feel so familiar and peculiar, like he had dreamed them days before. They were always foggy and a bit fuzzy around the edges, but he knew when he felt. It was a very particular feeling So he had begun keeping a dream journal (a terribly difficult task for someone who is like him in the morning) and soon realized that couldn't be the case because nothing ever matched up. His dreams were disjointed and unrealistic, filled with dinosaurs and flesh-eating robots.

Déjà vu had been the only other explanation that made sense to him.

"Your memory is pretty much shit so not sure how it could be that," Jihoon says when he explained his theory one evening.

"Déjà vu isn't about memory," Soonyoung defends, his cheeks full of half-chewed rice.

"Then what would you call it? It has to do recalling something that happened to you before. That's, like, literally the definition of a memory."

"Jihoon hyung's right," Seokmin chimes in. Soonyoung huffs at them both, a few stray grains of rice flying from his mouth.

"I get what you mean, hyung." 

Soonyoung's head bobs up at the agreement, looking down the length of the table at the source of the voice: Mingyu. Seokmin and Jihoon look over at him too, the latter with a bit of a smirk. 

"I think it's more like... something that happened to you before, maybe in a past life or something. So it wouldn't be remembering it like a typical memory. It feels recognizable because you lived through something similar before, but you don't have any specific thing to connect it to. It's just a familiar, unknown thing."

Seokmin seems to consider the logic but Jihoon just laughs and stands up from his seat, Coke bottle in hand. Mingyu stares at them for a long moment before he shrugs, looking suddenly shy as he blindly stabs at his food with his chopsticks.

"That's exactly what I think too," Soonyoung finally responds. Mingyu smiles at him and he returns it, though the topic suddenly gets lost in the chaos of Jun opening a window.

A large gust of wind whirls through the room, curtains fluttering and overdramatic screams emitting from various members as papers fly and plastic cups half-filled with beverages are knocked over. There's an eruption of flying limbs and scrambling but Soonyoung feels frozen.

The wind blows through the room with a whistling sound and while everyone else is busy picking up the mess and setting things straight, Soonyoung can't look away from Mingyu who is whistling along with the wind, long tree-like limbs reaching across the table to pick up fallen cups and dab at spilled Coke.

Soonyoung feels it again: the familiar unknown.

 

**II.**

 

It was a bad idea. Soonyoung sees that now, he hears his mother's disapproving words and concerns, he remembers his fear of heights and proneness to motion sickness and general discomfort with most things that he fought tooth and nail to surpass. And for what? To die alone in a tin can cascading back to Earth?

He had lost radio contact a few minutes ago and his visuals weren't reliable in the slightest now. Sitting still had never been something that came easy to him so he clutches at his safety harness and tries to regulate his breathing. But it's hard when all he can think about is imploding into a fiery ball of death at any given moment.

He had thought that in the last moments of life, one recalls the things that are the most important to them: family, friends, first loves, childhood memories. But all Soonyoung keeps thinking of are his recent conversations with base, specifically those with one of the newer crew members, Kim. 

He had joined the team after Soonyoung was already in orbit, so they hadn't properly met, but the two talked so easily and comfortably; he humored Soonyoung's jokes and Soonyoung found his slight lisp soothing. They generally didn't talk about anything too important; it was mainly chitchat, things like how Soonyoung was tired of eating bland food out of pouches while Kim slyly tried to hide his steaming fresh noodles from view of his camera. Even monotonous things like safety and regulation checks were turned into games between the two of them. They'd bicker back and forth so often that their supervisor would sometimes tell them to quit the newlywed banter.

It was strange but Soonyoung sometimes felt a prickle of disappointment on nights when someone else would radio in to check in on him. He'd secretly wonder what Kim was doing on his nights off duty.

And then it happens, shaking him from his own thoughts. The craft collides with... something. At first he thinks he's dead, that it was so swift and quick, he entered the afterlife without even blinking. But he realizes the sensation is one he knows all too well. He's in water, his pod bobbing like a rubber duck in a bathtub.

Time passes at an unknown rate but he manages to wipe the sheet of sweat from his face and release himself from his harness. He stumbles to the window and hopelessly claws at it, but his view is still obstructed by a fishing net or seaweed, something of the sort. It's a bit difficult to breathe suddenly and he knows it's because his adrenaline is finally running low. He's alive, somehow. And all he can seem to think about is eating warm, fresh noodles.

The capsule door above his head pops from its airlock and it reminds him that he's finally not alone anymore, drifting in the black void of space all by his lonesome self. He finally lays his eyes on the clear blue Earth sky and a sudden silhouette of another human being, the first he's seen in months.

"You're a sight for sore eyes," he says as a laugh gets caught in his throat because it's so sunny, he still can't make out the face of whoever just released him from his self-proclaimed prison.

"It's good to see you," the other says to him, his face finally morphing into view. Soonyoung sees bright, sparkling canines and Kim's out-stretched hand. It's the nicest greeting he can ever remember receiving. 

 

**III.**

 

Spring is damp and wet, but not in a way that feels too heavy. Muddy shoes and soaked through shirts are the least of concerns because it's finally warming up and there's something rejuvenating about it anyway. It's quite cliche, the rebirth and revival of spring encouraging a similar feeling within, but it's the truth. 

Soonyoung thinks maybe it's because he's gotten old, like how his knees crack like glowsticks when he bends down to pick something off the floor and his laugh lines have sunken into his face, visible even when he's void of any outward emotion. Whatever it is, it's nice to forget for a moment that his lighter and brighter years are behind him.

A secretary tucked behind a desk greets him pleasantly and he checks in with her, his crinkled folder overflowing with unorganized documents tucked under his arm.

"Kwon Soonyoung. I have an appointment with Mr. Kim."

She nods in understanding and clicks around on her computer while motioning for him to sit.

He does so and his body groans at him when he squats down to meet the too low chair. It's a beautiful day, he tries to remind himself. He closes his eyes for only a minute.

"It's good to see you, Mr. Kwon."

Soonyoung would blame his shiver on the air conditioner but it's still cool enough that it isn't running just yet. He looks up at the voice and he shouldn't be surprised at how handsome the architect is. After all, he's successful and renown in his field and from the few emails the two of them had exchanged, Soonyoung had found him charming enough.

He's too ancient to be affected by someone's attractiveness so he doesn't know what to make of the feeling he's experiencing. But he realizes he's taking too long to reply and quickly tries to stand, his hips cracking with the motion when he takes Mr. Kim's hand.

"It's really nice to officially meet you."

They walk down a long stretch of hallway, various people who look of importance passing by. Mr. Kim greets each of them with a genuine smile that exaggerates the lines around his mouth and eyes. He looks around Soonyoung's age but seems more distinguished and put together, the sophisticated kind of maturity that Soonyoung always feels like he lacks. Mr. Kim makes a comment to him about the weather, polite and warm, as if it's not a casual smalltalk conversation he's probably had a hundred times before.

And, of course, Soonyoung thinks, his office is immaculate; everything has its own rightful place. Folders line his shelves and are organized by date, by project, probably by status. Even his personal effects are in order, angled just right and lined in ways that are visually appealing. There are framed photographs of him with presumed business clients and partners but no traces of any family, no wifely-looking women or children. There are multiple awards and certificates, all framed and shining, hanging on the wall. Soonyoung wonders where his diploma is. Maybe still in with his late mother's belongings, collecting dust in a box.

Mr. Kim motions for him to sit on the opposite side of his desk, taking a seat in the oversized chair in front of an open window. Soonyoung sits, slowly this time and mindful of his joints.

A tube appears on the desktop and Mr. Kim pops it open, carefully pulling out the paper and unrolling it between the two of them.

"I'm excited to finally sit down with you. This is the most fun I've had on a project in some time," Mr. Kim tells him, a smile lighting up his face. Soonyoung again notes the deep-set lines around his eyes and cheeks and it reminds him of his own. Something they have in common.

"Really? I'm glad to hear that, Mr. Kim."

"Please, call me Mingyu. I still feel like Mr. Kim is my father." Soonyoung smiles backs and sets down his folder of papers, opening it.

There's a sudden breeze that sweeps through the room and it catches Soonyoung's papers, sending them across the office in a comical spectacle. Embarrassed (this is karma for not being more systematic with his organizational skills or lack-thereof), Soonyoung tries to gather them and Mingyu begins to help him.

The wind picks up and Mingyu's meticulously drawn out plan slips across the desktop and rolls up into itself. The two spend a short while cleaning up and Mingyu laughs lightly. He taps together the pile of papers in his hands; some are creased and crumpled, a few stained with coffee. Soonyoung is a bit flustered but he can't help the sensation of déjà vu that he feels.

"This feels like it's happened to me before, strangely," Mingyu says, as if reading his mind. He hands the papers back to Soonyoung and for reasons unknown, Soonyoung purposely has their fingers brush.

"I know what you mean."

 

**IV.**

 

If anyone were to ask Soonyoung what he thought of his hometown, he'd reply without hesitation stating how much he despised it. Sure, it was beautiful in a scenic western movie kind of way, and he was hard-pressed to beat the homestyle cooking he grew up eating. But he felt as if he was forever stuck in the same repetitive loop.

Most of his friends did labor work just like he did, sweating his ass off every day for minimum wage and piles of sweaty, dirty clothes. Everyone blows off steam the same way too; driving off into the middle of nowhere to drink or heading into town to, of course, drink.

He sometimes wonders how his life might have been different had he gone off to college but that was always a pipe dream. Guys like him weren't easily able to break out of their small town; that was for others with a bit more luck on their sides.

It was depressing to think how he would probably be stuck here forever, working on a farm until his body gave out from old age or exhaustion or both. And even worse was the thought of marrying someone he had grown up with, raising a few kids to add to the vicious, awful cycle. 

It was Sunday which meant some of his friends were still sleeping off the alcohol they had consumed the night before while the rest joined their families at church. Soonyoung considers himself blessed to get out of both of those predicaments. It's the one perk of having grown up with a single mother who works all hours of every day.

In town, the only thing that rivals the number of trucks is taverns. They're laced all throughout downtown (if one could call a short stretch of road with bars and restaurants a "downtown"), one beside the other. Every night, they're filled to the brim with patrons looking to drink away their god-awful days and lose themselves in the live tunes provided by the overabundance of musicians who hold onto hope of somehow making it big and leaving town forever.

Soonyoung doesn't frequent bars much; they're a bit too rowdy and noisy for his taste and it gets old seeing stumbling drunks and fist fights breaking out all the time. But at this hour, there's nothing better to do and there's something relaxing about the idea of day drinking.

There's a small saloon-style tavern that he's visited before and it's open already by the sounds of music drifting out from the swinging doors. He enters and finds it's coming from the stereo system, the small stage tucked in the corner empty. The place is actually completely vacant, sans the bartender who is still setting up for the day.

"Morning," he greets and Soonyoung is about to correct him when he glances at the old clock on the wall and realizes it's 11:58. Still technically morning. But that doesn't stop him from sitting down and ordering a beer.

They make small talk for a while before Soonyoung hears the saloon doors swing open and someone else enter. He's too busy tracing lines up the sweat on his glass to look up though.

The bartender converses with the new customer, leaving Soonyoung to zone out and daydream about being somewhere else, far away. He's only brought back to the present when the music cuts out and he hears someone breathe through the speakers.

He glances around and there on the tiny stage stands an overly tall, almost gangly guy. His back is hunched over as he pulls up the microphone stand (which was comedically too short) and adjusts the guitar strap around his shoulder. His hair is messy and lightened, maybe by constant sunlight exposure, Soonyoung thinks. He probably works outside like most of the young guys around here. He's stupidly handsome too and Soonyoung finds himself a wee bit envious.

"Any requests?" the guy asks him, still speaking into the microphone. Soonyoung realizes he's being directly stared at but he still looks around for other people before remembering it's still empty besides them and the barkeep.

"Um. Something uplifting?" he says, his voice sliding up in a questioning tone. The guy with the guitar grins widely and Soonyoung wants to hate him a little bit but his teeth catch Soonyoung's eye; they're white and pointy, though slightly uneven looking. It somehow makes him less annoying. 

"Yeah, sure." 

Soonyoung goes back to drinking his beer, his back turned to the singer. He starts playing and the song is one he knows. But he's confused.

"Look around you, look down the bar from you, at the faces that you see... are you sure this is where you wanna be?" 

The guy must be messing with him so he has to laugh a little. This song is anything but uplifting. Something swells inside him and he finishes his drink in a few gulps before ordering another. He continues to listen, silently.

"But look around you, and take a good look, at all the local used-to-be's. Are you sure that this is where you want to be?" 

The song ends with a few more strums of his guitar. Despite his current mood, Soonyoung offers a soft, slow applause. 

"Did that boost you up?" The voice is no longer coming through the speakers. Suddenly the guy is beside Soonyoung, guitar slung across his back. 

"Not quite." They both smile though Soonyoung isn't sure why he is because it doesn't fit with what he's feeling. The bartender places a beer in front of the singer and he takes a drink, sitting down. "A break already? You've only played one song."

He laughs and something that resembles pride bubbles inside Soonyoung's chest. At least he can still make someone chuckle. "Right. But if I'm gonna sing about you looking at people around you, I have to give you at least that, don't I?"

Soonyoung hums in agreement and they sit quietly for a few minutes, drinking. "I'm Soonyoung."

"Nice to meet you, Soonyoung. I'm Mingyu." His teeth poke out a little and Soonyoung looks away quickly. "So what do you think?"

"About what?"

"Are you sure this is where you want to be?" 

Soonyoung thinks for a moment before nodding, meeting Mingyu's eye. "Actually yeah, I feel pretty sure now."

 

**V.**

 

"Hey."

Soonyoung's eyes flutter open for a moment before he remembers where he is. 

He's at home, warm and curled up on the couch, his head in Mingyu's lap. He can faintly feel fingers combing through his hair and he's so comfortable that he almost forgets to hum in response, letting his boyfriend know he heard him.

"Are you happy?"

"I'd be happier if you'd let me sleep," he mutters in reply, curling up tighter. Mingyu's fingertips drift down the curve of his neck and up along the shell of his ear. Soonyoung shivers but smiles sleepily.

"I'm being serious."

A bit reluctantly, Soonyoung opens his eyes properly, squinting against the sunlight streaming into their living room. He turns his head to the side to look up at the other and any remaining annoyance melts away.

"Why wouldn't I be happy?"

"I don't know. I just mean, like... are you sure this is where you want to be?" Soonyoung sits up at this and he's about to shut down the conversation completely when something creeps up inside him. This moment seems like it's happened before but he knows it never has; the two of them have never really questioned their relationship, at least not to each other. Maybe it was just a bad dream he had once before.

Soonyoung shakes off the feeling and takes Mingyu's hand, lacing his tan, chunky fingers between his slimmer, paler ones. "I couldn't imagine a better place to be." 

Mingyu smiles sheepishly, a look that has never quite fit his outward appearance but Soonyoung has loved all the same. He thinks he's seen that smile a thousand times and he could see it a thousand more and never tire of it.

They kiss and again, he's hit with a sense of ease and familiarity but this time he knows where it's from. These are feelings and moments he knows all too well, ones he can place and recall exactly, every single one of them. But he's always greedy for more, wanting to add to the collection of them he keeps locked inside of himself.

The sun has finally begun to set once Soonyoung wakes up again, he and Mingyu tangled together and somehow still on the couch. Their skin is warm and damp, slightly sticking to one another and pulling apart as Soonyoung readjusts to get comfortable, his head snugly fit against the other's shoulder. 

Their apartment is filled with a deep golden color, reflecting off the glass table and photo frames of the two of them together, spanning years. Soonyoung admires how the light is absorbed into his boyfriend's skin, bronze and glowing like he's the sun himself. 

He hopes he gets to live like this forever.

 

**VI.**

 

Summers in the south were hot and sticky. Soonyoung both loves and hates them, because they offer him more freedom to go running about and doing as he pleases. School is out for weeks on end and his parents are too busy working to keep a close eye on him.

He's free to spend his days outdoors, brow beading with sweat and skin ripe with scrapes and bruises. He climbs and runs and swings and explores. His mother had told him that when you are young and small, the world seems endlessly big and there are countless places and things to see. Soonyoung didn't really believe that though; if there were countless things, he'd never get to see them all himself and he was sure he would get to.

His father had taught him how to create pictures as a way to remember all the places he found and discovered. He took to mapmaking quickly, always keeping his handy compass nearby. His father told him he should use landmarks as a reference to locate other places. There were some obvious choices of course, his home and his school, the local church and the nearest bus stop. But Soonyoung's favorite marker was a certain tree he had visited every day since he could remember.

It was unbelievably tall and broad, the branches spanning and reaching so far that it seemed to take up the entire sky. They knotted and bent at perfect angles for him to climb and latch onto, hugging and clinging to. His parents used to take him there on weekends and sometimes during the evenings. His father even hung up a rope swing for him on one of the strong outstretched arms years ago. 

The tree didn't belong to anyone, his parents had explained to him, but Soonyoung still referred to it as his own. It was his favorite place to spend his time and he never saw anyone else appreciating it like he did daily. He was old enough to know that it was strange to consider a tree a friend but it sometimes felt that way to him.

Some days, when it was too hot or too late to be out surveying the lands, he'd spend all his time at the tree. He'd pack snacks and toys in his bag and climb up to his favorite perch, time drifting lazily like its leaves in the wind.

Never being quite the academic type, it was rare for him to spend his free time reading. After all, he had explained to his mother one day, there were so many better things to do with his day. But stubbornness was shared between mother and son, so it didn't surprise him too much when he found a book tucked into his rucksack, alongside the packed lunch she had made for him that day. 

Any other time, he would have ignored it. But being in his precise location, lounged back against his tree, leg dangling off the side of one of its thick branches, the likeness of the cover isn't lost on even his young mind.

Sure, the drawing of the tree didn't look anything like his. It's far too simple and the branches are much too short to be his tree. And while the sketch of the boy's face was round like his own, the hair was all wrong. But he knows why his mother had sneakily given it to him despite the differences.

Curiosity beats out any internal pride he had for avoiding any academic activity outside of school. He flips through the book quickly, debating if he should actually give it a read before settling back against the bark of the tree and opening it properly to the first page.

"Once there was a tree, and she loved a little boy. And everyday the boy would come and he would gather her leaves and make them into crowns and play king of the forest." 

Soonyoung did sometimes pluck off leaves, usually to make whistles or tuck behind is ears. But playing king of the forest was far too childish. He wasn't _that_ young, he huffs to himself.

"He would climb up her trunk and swing from her branches, and eat apples."

His tree didn't grow apples or any other fruit; it bloomed some flowers in spring though and was always the first tree around to start budding leaves after winter. He had learned it was called a weeping willow, which seemed like a much too sad name for such a great tree.

"And they would play hide-and-go-seek. And when he was tired, he would sleep in her shade." Soonyoung pauses, looking up into the endless streams of leaves above and around him. "Why are they so certain you're a girl?"

He flips to the next page and reads it over and over, at first without making a sound.

"And the boy loved the tree... very much. And the tree was happy." 

Soonyoung lays the book down over his abdomen, cover facing up. "Are you happy?" he asks the tree, picking up a strand of leaves and running it through his fingers.

The wind picks up and as if replying, the tree's impossibly long, thin branches swish in the breeze and whistle at him. Soonyoung purses his lips together and attempts to whistle back, smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> ahhhh i am a little bit late in posting this but i'm so glad i got to participate in the soongyu fic fest!! what a lovely, underrated ship.
> 
> my prompt was "Multiple lives/Reincarnation AU" and i tried to do something a little different with it, so i hope whoever submitted the prompt enjoys this and that all of you who took the time to read it enjoy it as well! <3
> 
> this was heavily inspired by kacey musgraves' album "golden hour", specifically the songs oh, what a world, golden hour, rainbow, and slow burn! the album is awesome, if you haven't listened to it before.
> 
> feel free to hit me up on twitter (@ mingowow) to chat about soongyu or svt in general! :)


End file.
